


some room for happiness

by Misila



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misila/pseuds/Misila
Summary: Marriage, kids, a family― it wasn’t as if Roy had no interest in them. It looked nice, gentle and calm. God knew he hadn’t yearned for anything as much as he had for peace since his days in Ishval; but it was his role in the war what made his dream impossible to achieve.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	some room for happiness

It had been raining for three days without pause when Havoc arrived at the office.

His smile was bright enough to make up for the weather; after greeting his colleagues and offering a half-hearted apology for his tardiness he plopped himself on his seat, leaning his cane on the table before reaching for the pile of paperwork awaiting him.

“What a lovely day, right, Colonel?”

Roy glared up from the document he had spent ten minutes trying to decipher, but a smirk curled his lips upon noticing that his subordinate’s workload was heavier than his own.

“Indeed, a perfect day to catch up with the duties you have neglected all week.”

Havoc didn’t reply. Instead he lit up a cigarette and grabbed the first stack of sheets fastened with a paperclip, whistling faintly.

“You are in good spirits,” Falman observed.

Breda nodded. “And you haven’t complained once in the two minutes since you arrived…”

“Because I’m in a good mood, but that doesn’t mean the Colonel isn’t a slavedriver.” Havoc pointed his cigarette at Roy’s unimpressed expression. “I was away for health reasons!”

“You look healthy enough to do your paperwork to me.” Roy didn’t miss a beat. “While we’re at it, I am a Brigadier General now, so address me as such.” He rubbed his temples, a futile attempt to chase the ache in them away. “How are your legs?”

“Everything’s alright, blah, blah, adequate progress, blah, blah… The usual.” Havoc waved the question away and gave the cigarette a puff. “But that’s not why I’m so happy, you know.”

Breda leant towards Fuery, whispered a barely audible _he’s going to jinx it_ that Hawkeye tried to silence with a _shhh_. The youngest member of the unit conceal a giggle behind his hand before looking down.

“Guess who got a girlfriend!” Havoc announced, louder than the thunder outside. “She’s so beautiful and smart, and she has a great sense of humour too…”

“Definitely jinxed now,” Breda muttered, a bit louder now. Hawkeye cleared her throat. “What? It’s true; his relationships never last.”

“Now you’re the one jinxing it.” Havoc breathed out a small cloud of smoke, irritated. “Don’t be so negative. I have the feeling this is the one.”

“Let her be the one out of working hours,” Roy intervened before Breda could reply. “Or you may have to stay to make up for the time you’re wasting,” he added, satisfied when Havoc all but swallowed down a complaint.

Though the banter remained unspoken in the room, the air was easy to breathe, familiar and soothing. For all they complained about paperwork –and Roy was the loudest one–, the six of them enjoyed their time together, be it bickering or working in silence. There was no need to say it out loud, but since Havoc’s return the office was livelier, impregnated with the faintest scent of tobacco that made everything fall into place.

That very morning, it had been the prospect of having all his subordinates with him what helped Roy to get out of bed, not minding the migraine that would undoubtedly grow worse throughout the day. The occasional reminders of the Promised Day were painful, sometimes to the point of blackening his sight for hours again; but making sure Havoc was on the right track to make a full recovery was well worth a couple of headaches.

At least, until lunchtime.

The group dispersed during the break; Hawkeye, Breda, Fuery and Havoc headed for the canteen, while Falman announced that he needed a walk to breathe air that didn’t smell like tobacco. Roy covered his face with his hands to hide from the artificial light, making a mental note to get up and open the windows when he stopped feeling like throwing up.

It would have been easier if nausea had actually left him alone at some point. His eyes throbbed with every beat of his heart, the conversation when Havoc had arrived replaying in his mind.

He wasn’t worried about Havoc having a girlfriend. Havoc was an upright professional, perfectly capable of separating his job from his private life― he had been chosen by Roy, after all. No; what bothered him wasn’t about his subordinate as much as it was about… Well.

His own choices, or lack thereof.

“…al? Brigadier General? Are you alright?”

Roy’s hands slid down his cheeks until they rested on the desk. Hawkeye stood in front of him, holding a folder against her chest; in her serious expression Roy could read a hint of concern.

“Ah… Yes, I’m fine,” he lied. Too aware that he could never fool her, Roy jolted to his feet, stumbled towards the closest window to pull it open. “Is the break already over?”

“I finished sooner. Sir,” Hawkeye walked past him in a couple of strides to open the other window, “perhaps you should take a break too.”

Roy chuckled. “I must look truly awful for you to suggest to stop working, huh.”

Leaning against the frame of the window, he spotted Falman walking through the garden, with not even an umbrella to shelter him from the rain. He had asked for a leave a few months before Havoc’s return, to take care of his children while his wife attended a conference in Central.

In life, Hughes would often tease him for his idealism, but Roy was no fool. He was well aware that his subordinates’ lives were broader than the office and companionship they shared: Falman had a family of his own, Havoc yearned to form one; Fuery made friends wherever he went, and though more laid-back Breda has interests outside the military too. It was healthy, normal, _good_ ; and yet Roy refused to relate to their situations.

Marriage, kids, a family― it wasn’t as if Roy had no interest in them. It looked nice, gentle and calm. God knew he hadn’t yearned for anything as much as he had for peace since his days in Ishval; but it was his role in the war what made his dream impossible to achieve. He had destroyed hundreds, perhaps thousands of families, burnt entire neighbourhoods to ashes; he had no right to even desire what he had taken away from so many innocent people.

Roy’s gaze strayed towards Hawkeye. A selfish part of him was relieved to not be the only one who had chosen atonement over personal satisfaction, that she, too, intended to devote her life to penance and left no room for indulgence. It had been over a decade since the Ishval Civil War, but no choice or sacrifice had washed away the blood in their hands.

“Will we ever shed this burden, Lieutenant?”

Hawkeye’s gaze dropped to somewhere between Roy’s knees and feet, lips pressed into a thin line. “Isn’t carrying it the least we can do to make it up to them?”

Roy closed his eyes; he was well aware of it. They couldn’t allow themselves to be complacent, to think that any of what they did to help Ishval flourish was enough. It wasn’t, it would never be; they couldn’t return the lives they had taken.

“By the way, sir.” Hawkeye called softly, her voice not as stern as usual; it almost didn’t worsen Roy’s headache. “Edward arrived a while ago.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Fullm―… Edward Elric? What is he doing here?”

“Apparently, just stopping by to say hello.” Her eyes spoke of something else though. “He asked after you. Should I bring him here?”

“He’ll distract everyone, so no.” Roy stepped off the window, headed towards the exit. “I will look for him myself.”

“Please don’t slack off,” Hawkeye called after him.

Roy only waved in response as he left.

It had been a while since he had last seen the―… the man, really, even though Roy couldn’t bring himself to accept that the youngest State Alchemist in the history of Amestris wasn’t a hot-headed teenager anymore. No matter he had attended Edward and Winry’s wedding the year prior; there was still a naivety of sorts in his eyes, the dreamy glint no war had taken away from him.

Edward was surrounded by officers at the entrance of the canteen, talking loudly and laughing with them. He didn’t notice Roy’s presence until he was right behind his back, and it was only because the people around him straightened up and dropped their easygoing demeanour to salute Brigadier General Mustang properly.

“What are you guys…” Edward spun on his heels. “Hey there, Col―… Uh, what was your current rank again?”

“Didn’t you hear them?!”

“Yeah, well, I thought they were greeting someone important.”

“You brat…” 

The officers quietly slid out of view, leaving Roy and Edward alone to bicker in peace.

“My head hurts too much for this,” Roy groaned after a couple of minutes though, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat.

Edward opened his mouth, closed it again. When he spoke, there was no trace of a jibe in his words:

“You still have headaches?”

“Every now and then. It’s better than not seeing at all, don’t you think?” Roy refused to be pitied. “How come you deigned to visit us?”

“We spent a couple of weeks in Dublith with my teacher; Winry is staying in Rush Valley for a while like the automail freak that she is, so I figured I could take a detour to see everyone before going back to Resembool.” Edward grinned. “Aren’t you going to treat me to some tea?”

Roy huffed. “You still owe me 520 cens.”

“And you still haven’t become Führer.” Edward led the way inside the canteen; most tables were already empty, so they got a spot next to a window after ordering at the bar. Neither of them said a word until the waiter brought their tea. “Ishval is doing a lot better lately.”

“I guess.” Roy took a sip from his cup, flinching at the heat scorching his tongue. “Making it a trading point with Xing is drawing even non-Ishvalans there, and Miles and Scar are doing a good work of restoring their culture.”

“Hm… I’d like to visit sometime,” Edward muttered. “Al was there when he returned from Xing, and he was really excited.”

Roy only hummed.

Perhaps he should have felt proud. He had been working on it, on giving the Ishvalans their holy land back and pay the debt Amestris had with their people; and Roy was certain he wouldn’t aim higher until the economy in the area was stabilised.

But guilt would keep eating away at him, his heartbeat hammering _not enough, not enough, not enough_ into his skull for as long as his hands were soaked in blood― for as long as he lived.

“Brigadier General Mustang, hey,” Edward called, snapping his fingers in front of Roy. “You’re spacing out.”

Roy blinked, rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah… Maybe I should have skipped work after all. Anyway, how are you? And Alphonse, is he still travelling?”

“He’s in Xing again, but now it’s just to visit May.” There was a teasing hue in Edward’s voice, but he made no further comment on his brother. “Hey!” he added suddenly, so loud Roy almost spilt his tea. “You know what?”

Roy set his cup down, taken aback by Edward’s wide grin.

“…You’re finally giving my money back?” he tried.

“Winry is pregnant.”

Roy raised his eyebrows, warmth flooding his chest at the news. There he was, expecting his first child; Roy _really_ needed to stop thinking of Edward as an insolent kid.

“That’s great,” he replied, honest.

“She let me tell you and the Lieutenant because we don’t see each other that often these days, but we haven’t told anyone else yet,” Edward added, smile so big his cheeks must hurt, “because we want to wait until Al is back to tell him and Granny together…” Edward giggled, overjoyed. “Can you believe? Winry’s going to have a baby! And it’s mine too!”

“I’m already sorry for that poor thing.” Roy sighed. “Having you as a father will be tough.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“And they’ll be taller than you at twelve… Are you ready for that, ex-Fullmetal Alchemist?”

“At least I’m not as obnoxious and arrogant as others,” Edward replied, though he was smiling. “What about you though? When are you going to settle down?”

“Don’t you dare imitate Hughes―…” Roy started; but Edward, having found a button he could push, ignored him.

“At your age, you should start thinking seriously about getting married, having kids…”

Roy swallowed down a pang of bitterness.

“I can’t afford a family, Edward.” Leaning his elbows on the table, he laced his fingers together. “Fixing this country is a full-time job.”

Edward folded his arms. “Nonsense. There are plenty of people working on it these days.” He bit his lower lip. “Do you still have in mind getting to the top just to be tried for obeying orders?”

“To do justice,” Roy corrected. “It’s all that awaits me; why would I get others involved in that mess?”

“You already got Lieutenant Hawkeye involved.”

Edward’s voice was unusually quiet, but it carried enough anger to pierce through the aching haze that was starting to blur Roy’s surroundings.

“What does she―…?”

“If you go through it, she’ll be sentenced too,” Edward cut him off. “Wasn’t she the reason you spared Envy, that day? Why would you lead both of you to your own downfall?”

“Now you’re scolding me about matters you don’t understand.” Roy couldn’t help but raise his voice, not as aggravated at being reprimanded by his former subordinate as he was by the fact that those words sounded more reasonable than the self-loathing memories brought. “We already agreed on it. For the sake of this country, and to pay our debts to Ishval…”

“How is you sacrificing yourselves helping anyone?” Edward interrupted again. Roy was grateful the canteen was empty; he would lose his subordinates’ respect were they to witness him at a loss for words before a twenty year-old. “If you’re executed, or spend the rest of your life in prison… How can you make sure the ones following you don’t prioritise themselves over Amestris, then?”

“I can’t, but nothing else I do will be enough,” Roy hissed through gritted teeth. The warmth born in his chest at the news of Edward’s future child had morphed into boiling water that scalded his heart, hands balled into fists. “I could rebuild all of Ishval with golden bricks and it still wouldn’t be enough, not after everything I destroyed with my own hands.”

Edward fell silent, for the first time not knowing what to say

“That’s true,” he eventually admitted. “But… For that same reason, what difference would it make for them, you not making yourself miserable?”

“...Huh?”

“I mean,” Edward continued, scratching his chin, “it’s not enough, it’ll never be. I get that. But you’re still doing so much, and you’d do even more as Führer. Not for yourself, but for the Ishvalans. Why would you give that up?

“You didn’t say that you don’t _want_ a family.” Roy wanted to protest, but he was unable to find his voice. “You can’t have one, because you only want to reach the top to throw yourself off a cliff. But that’d be counterproductive for your interests.” Edward smirked, satisfied with his reasoning. “Am I wrong?”

“Fullmetal―…”

“Not anymore.” Edward’s expression grew smug. “Am I wrong or not?”

Roy shook his head, hid his face behind his hands again. Edward’s logic was annoyingly flawless.

“…Still,” he insisted weakly, blaming his migraine for his inability to come up with a good counter-argument. “How could I…?”

_How could I hold her with these hands?_

When he got married, Hughes had asked Roy the same question. Sometimes his hands would shake where they rested on Gracia’s waist, when he hugged her; and he hadn’t dared to touch his daughter for days when she was born.

When consulted, Hawkeye had been pragmatic about it― hands were just hands, weapons were just weapons. Mere instruments. It was their owner who should be held accountable for the harm they caused. 

That didn’t erase the certainty that her hands – _their_ hands– had others’ blood engraved in their skin. They were both murderers, and nothing could change that fact.

In a hideous, twisted way, war had made them perfect for each other.

“Brigadier General.” Roy nearly fell off his chair, startled by Hawkeye’s stern voice. He peeked between his fingers. “It has been twenty minutes since the end of the break. If you still feel unwell, please go to the infirmary or head home; we will take care of the rest.” Her expression softened when she met Edward’s still satisfied gaze. “I assume you already told him?”

“Yeah.” He stood up. “I should get going now.” To Roy’s surprise, he headed for the bar, turning around to flash him a grin. “Today’s on me.”

After fetching their umbrellas, Roy and Hawkeye walked Edward to the station. The trip was quiet, Edward’s excitement over his future child muffled by the incessant rain. Roy walked a couple of metres ahead of him and Hawkeye, not minding the weather even when it made him the target of a few jibes; the cold helped to clear the fog in his mind, alleviating the pain lodged in his brain.

“Send Winry and Alphonse our regards,” Hawkeye reminded Edward when the train started moving.

“Sure, Lieutenant.” Still standing on the entrance, Edward turned around to look at them one last time. “I’ll call when the baby is born, so be sure to drop by! I don’t want excuses.”

The pair waved as the train left, the arm poking out of a window growing smaller until a curve hid it from their sight. As they turned around to leave, Roy swallowed down a new wave of nausea; he couldn’t stop his surroundings from spinning around though, Hawkeye’s quick reflexes all that kept him from falling.

“Thanks.” Roy took a cautious step by himself, kept advancing slowly enough to not lose his balance again. Since he was using his umbrella for support, Hawkeye opened her own to shelter them both from the rain. “…I really should go home, shouldn’t I?”

Hawkeye took a couple of seconds to think about it.

“From experience, if you don’t rest the day your migraine starts, you’ll be bedridden for half a week,” she reasoned. “…What are you smiling for?”

Roy huffed, resignation settling within him. It stung in the back of his eyelids and the knot in his throat, but it wasn’t quite unpleasant and he had no idea what to do with it.

Perhaps Edward was right. Perhaps there was a place for his own wishes in spite of the burden he had been carrying for ten long years, perhaps there was more he could do than self-destruction.

Perhaps they still had the right to work for their own happiness, without hurting anyone.

Roy grinned. “Edward Elric really isn’t a child anymore, is he?”

“He has matured,” Hawkeye agreed, “but his heart has always been in the right place.” She tilted the umbrella towards Roy’s side, but he grabbed it over her hand, levelling it so that it covered them both. “Your shoulder is soaked,” she pointed out.

“I don’t have the intention to fight today,” Roy assured. In spite of the cold, her fingers were warm under his own. “Besides, I have you.” He glanced at her― strong, clever, beautiful. “Lieutenant, I’m going to take your advice and call it a day. Would you mind accompanying me home?”

Hawkeye’s hand twitched, and Roy would have let go of her; but the apology pushing behind his teeth died at the way the corners of her lips quirked upwards.

“There is no need to phrase it like a request,” she muttered, gaze warm and honest. “Watching your back is my job, Brigadier General Mustang.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had been wanting to write FMAB fic (royai, who am I kidding) for a long time, but when I started this it hit me that they needed to realise that they still have the right to be happy first. So here it is. A beginning for Roy, thanks to a more mature Ed who still sticks his nose wherever he wants.
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated! Tell me what you liked about the fic ^^
> 
> ([twitter](http://www.twitter.com/nenufair))


End file.
